American Horror Story: Hunger Games
by TeaEarlGreyHot
Summary: A story I'm writing for my friend about Tate, Violet, Moira, and an OC in the hunger games. Content warning for violence, mentions of sexual abuse, and (obviously) major character deaths later on.
1. Chapter 1- The Reaping: Tate

Alright so I started this story a few months ago, and what I have so far is about 18,000 words. I'm writing this for a friend of mine, but I'm having trouble motivating myself, so I think uploading it here too will help me with that. I'll probably upload one or two chapters a week, unless you guys want more than that.

"Tate Langdon." The shrill voice of the announcer called out to the audience. Tate barely registered the thousands of relived sighs coming from all around him. Fuck. That was his name. That wasn't his worst fear for the jar of boy's names. He would have chosen to go into the games a thousand times before ever wanting to hear his little brother's name come from that bright blue moron from Capitol. That wasn't an option yet, Beau was only a kid. He wasn't old enough to be reaped. He'd never be old enough for the games, not mentally or physically. That wouldn't stop anyone from picking his name, though. He'd get killed in the first bloodbath. Tate winces visibly. He tried never to think about that. He would have volunteered for either of his siblings in a second, but he couldn't do that if he was dead. He would just have to survive. And Tate wasn't a stranger to killing. He was pretty sure he had a fair shot in the arena. When the people in front of him parted like repelling magnets, he walked forward and ignored their stares. He'd seen the reaping enough times to know what he was supposed to do. He stood next to whatever that fucking Capitol whore's name was and looked in the crowd, glad that his siblings were too young to be chosen and safely at home, where they didn't have to see this. They were in shitty hands, and it made Tate feel sick knowing they'd be there without him for however long Tate was in the arena, but knowing their big brother was killing and being stalked like prey would make everything much worse. Addie understood what the hunger games were. Beau didn't, but he knew what danger was.

Tate's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the name of the girl going into the arena with him. Fuck, no. Fuck. Not her. She couldn't take part in the fucked up killing spree the Capitol called a 'game.' No. His first instinct was to volunteer for her and go in her place, but then he remembered where he was standing. He frantically searched the crowed for a raised hand or someone rushing up to volunteer. Literally anyone in that audience would deserve it more than her. But, like after they called his own name, it was silent. She didn't look scared. He knew she was, but she looked like a damn stone. She always did that when she was hiding something. He was silently thankful for that. All the other competitors would see this when they were studying, and he didn't want them to think she was a weak, easy target. It didn't matter too much, he wouldn't let anyone touch her. He wouldn't let anyone get within 10 yards of her. She was going to be the winner.


	2. Chapter 2- The Reaping: Violet

Alright second chapter. I forgot to tell y'all but you should know that I don't really know or care a lot about The Hunger Games. I read them in high school and I never loved them, but the friend that I'm writing this for does, and I think it's an interesting concept. So I know I'll get some stuff wrong, and then there's stuff that I'm intentionally getting wrong for the sake of the plot. Like, people of any age can be reaped, boys and girls can volunteer for each other, and there's no giant claw thing to get the bodies out. Just thought I should mention that. Reviews are always nice.

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When Violet heard Tate's name, she was instantly more conflicted than she ever had been before. Her gut feeling was terror and concern. She didn't want him to go into an arena and kill, then be killed. But better him than someone else, right? After all he already did, it was karmic retribution. The games were completely sociopathic, it better a genuinely evil person got reaped than some 12 year old who's name was in there too often because it was that or starving to death. Violet just would try not to watch the game that year. She'd hear about it, of course. It'd be impossible not to. But she didn't think she'd be able to watch Tate die, and she knew she wouldn't be able to watch him kill. Well, watch him kill again.

Violet wasn't that worried when Pomeline, the Capitol woman with the shrill voice and bright blue hair, said she was announcing the girl. Violet's dad was a teacher. It wasn't the best paid job, but it was good enough that Violet had never had to put in her name extra times. District seven was pretty impoverished, most of the people Violet knew weren't as lucky as she was. Not that she felt grateful or anything. Sometimes she thought that she should have, but that was pretty difficult with a totalitarian government, a dead mother, and way too many secrets.

"Violet Harmon." Pomeline said, smiling like what came out of her mouth was good news. "And now we have our two victors from District Seven." Violet stoop frozen where she was. The people around her, her acquaintances from school and people who knew her from all the news a few months ago, looked at her. They were selfish assholes. They weren't smiling, and they looked sympathetic, but she knew they were secretly just relived it wasn't them. Maybe some of them were happy, even, for the same reason she thought it was objectively good that Tate got chosen. She knew she had to walk up. If she didn't the guards would come, and that was always humiliating and self defeating for the 'champions.' Everyone was watching her, studying her every move. She swallowed and moved her feet to walk. They felt heavy. She didn't show emotions the entire way up to the stage unti she made eye contact with Tate. They hadn't been that close in months. Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him with hate. Once they were in the arena, she was going to kill him.


	3. Chapter 3- The Reaping: Moira

Moira stood in the crowd of people who thought they were better than her. She was dressed just as extravagantly as any of them, but word got around quickly when people didn't have anything better to do than gossip. Even Bise, who Moira had grown to begrudgingly respect, never worked for more than three months a year. Working in technology was easy when the difficult and strenuous work was done by people bellow you and all you had to do was come up with ideas. He stood next to her with his arm around her waist, a gesture of ownership rather than one of affection. Moira knew enough to be able to tell the difference.

"Lartius Keene." Moira winced and closed her eyes. That was the name of a thirteen year old boy that lived a block away from Bise's house. Moira had seen him often. He was loud and impolite, but he was thirteen. She could hear him crying as he walked to the platform. The reaping was always terrible for Moira. The faces of dread were the same every year, but Moira could never get used to them. It almost seemed more terrible in District Three than in her home District Nine. At least if someone from Nine won, the district would get enough food to ward of starvation for the year. People in three didn't need that, but they weren't quite privileged enough to see the games as something as joyful as the name would imply. No one from three trained or volunteered for the games, that was just out of their reach.

"Aaaand…" The Capitol representative teased while pulling out the second name. Moira wasn't even sure she was in there. She might have been still registered with District Nine. She didn't really know what Bise took care of. She was curious, of course, but they didn't have many conversations. Bise talked to her a lot, but that was to vent or brag. He didn't have many friends, a sacrifice he made to at the top of his industry. Moira hated that. She would much rather be a silent whore used just for sex, then she could at least disassociate completely. "Moira O'Hara."

Moira felt Bise's hand on her side tighten enough to bruise. Moira had thought about being in the games a lot. When she was back home, she often had to make extra entries. Apparently they did transfer. She was strong and fast enough not to be an easy meal, and she was smart enough to know there was nothing wrong with killing in a fight-or-die situation, but no amount of cold, logical thinking would have made her ready to hear her own name. She took Bise's hand in her own and forced it down so she could walk forward. She did so with her head held high, projecting an image of a threatening, confident fighter. That's what she had always been, even if the fighting part wasn't as literal as it would soon become.


	4. Chapter 4- The Reaping: David

David could barely make himself go the reapings. He couldn't go without having flashbacks of when he was 18 and the games were more real to him than they had ever been. Paul almost won that year. He was in the last three. David remembered how selfish he felt, wishing and praying for the two other competitor's deaths. He had to constantly remind himself that Paul's death wasn't a punishment for that. Now, the reapings just served as a disgusting reminder of the day Paul was called up. David saw his face in every person called to battle. He had stopped worrying about if he was going to get called. It seemed to unlikely and cruel to actually happen that two close friends would get chosen to participate in the massacre that the twisted minds of the government called the hunger games. David wasn't usually so hateful. He tried to live his life with whatever optimism he could muster and enjoy everything he could, but forcing people to kill each other for sport, a sport that took away his best friend, was something that turned him dark.

"Raff Hoffman." David didn't know him, but from the looks of it he was in his thirties. David looked closer and saw that Raff was holding a little girl's hand. Oh, he was a father. The games were so sickening. That little girl would have to watch her father die, most likely. Even if he lived, he wouldn't come out as the same person. The woman on the stage congradulated Raff, as if it was a gift. David's stomach churned.

"And for the ladies, Maggie O'hara!" Without even thinking, David's hand shot up.

"I volunteer!" He proclaimed. Maggie was in her late 50s, she couldn't fight. She was a sweet old lady. David had been looking after her for a few years because she couldn't work. They had grown pretty close. She was lonely. Her daughter moved to a different district a few years ago, but she rarely talked about it. She had consoled David a lot through his loss of a friend, and he had filled the role of someone to take care of for her. He wasn't going to let her die. People gasped, they weren't used to people stepping up to what was essentially suicide. No one from nine ever volunteered, not in six years. And then, before that, not in David's lifetime. Six years ago it was Paul, going in place for his little brother. Maybe what David was doing was honoring him, in a way.

He kept his eyes on the ground on his way up. He didn't want to see any eyes of pity, especially not from Mrs. O'hara. He knew she'd visit him after the pageantry was over, but maybe she would have gotten over the shock by then. Being given a death sentence then having someone take it from you was a lot to take in, and she was a caring person. Hopefully someone else would be there to hold her hand through the games, he didn't want her to watch him die with no one to help her. And he was going to die, there wasn't a lot of speculation about that. He wouldn't kill anyone, it didn't matter the circumstance. He's avoid death as long as he could, long enough to find some peace with his end, and then he'd be killed. It scared him, but he'd take that any day over becoming what he saw his friend become over the course of two weeks.


	5. Chapter 5- Visiting Hours: Tate

Tate wasn't expecting visitors. He didn't have any friends. The closest thing to a 'friend' he had ever had was in a room next to his, probably crying while her dad said goodbye. He knew his siblings were home, and he hoped his mother would have some semblance of decency and leave him alone. He probably should have known better. It wasn't two minutes of solitude before the door creaked open and Constance came in, looking like a weeping mess. Cocksucker. Her make up was everywhere. She shouldn't have been buying that shit. Beau was barely fucking alive because she couldn't afford the right medication but she always had enough money to look like a Capitol-wannabe pained whore.

"Tate, my boy." She pathetically sobbed, lunging towards him and wrapping her arms around him. "You can't go into those-" He cut her off by violently shoving her away. He was going to die within the next few weeks, she wouldn't be able to punish him anymore. Not ever again.

"Fuck off." He glared, looking at her and thinking about how their past might be an advantage in the games. If he ever needed motivation to kill, he'd just think about Constance. He didn't think that would be a problem, though. Keeping Violet alive was more than enough reason to shed blood. Hell, the high of killing was a good enough reason. He had promised himself he wouldn't do that again, but situations changed. Violet would want it, now. She'd have to. Constance looked hurt and angry, like she always did when Tate defied him. Fucking bitch. If she was chosen instead of Violet, she'd be dead in a half a second. Maybe Tate should have killed her a long time ago. Constance wiped tears from her eyes, smearing her eyeliner. She looked completely wretched. Maybe she'd throw herself off a cliff out of the grief. Unlikely. She'd probably just get her comfort from some moronic boy toy half her age that was too fucking dumb and too fucking gay to leave.

"W-we…this is my last chance to see you, Tate!" She pleaded, trying to bring out the scared little boy she usually did in Tate. It wasn't going to work this time, there was nothing she could do to hurt him. He stood stone faced as a Peacekeeper took his fighting and wailing mother out of the room. She was so weak. Tate sat back down on the wooden bench and blocked Constance out of his mind. She was gone now. She'd be gone forever.

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**Reminder that reviews are super appreciated :)**


	6. Chapter 6- Visiting Hours: Violet

Violet sat on a bench in a small room, shaking and on the verge of tears. She had done a good job of keeping herself together on stage, but she was alone now, spare the two Peacekeepers, and everything was hitting her. She was going to die soon. It was ironic. She had thought about just doing the job herself a thousand times in the past few months, but now that she didn't have a choice in the matter, it was terrifying. She didn't want to die, she knew that now with certainty. She didn't have any delusions about winning, though. She was sixteen and tiny, there would be people in that arena who had been training to kill their entire lives. She'd be lucky if she made it three days.

Her dad came in, he looked fucking devastated. That made sense. He didn't really have a lot left. Violet suspected that he had been with someone before her mom died, but she wasn't sure that was still going on. He had gotten really depressed and mostly just stayed home when he wasn't at work. She could tell he had been trying really hard to keep it together since the massacre. Hopefully he'd keep that but, but it'd be impossible for her to ever know. She got up and hugged him tightly, letting herself cry more. She could feel his chest moving up and down, letting her know that he was crying too, even though she couldn't hear it. A part of her wanted to just stay there forever, but she knew they only had three minutes to say goodbye. She looked up at him and took a deep breath so that she'd be able to speak properly.

"You know I didn't do it, right?" She didn't have to clarify what she was talking about, it was obvious to both of them. She needed to know that he believed she didn't kill all those people. So many people did, because she was the only witness. Well, the only witness that the Peacekeepers knew about. She was never punished for it, because the Peacekeeper reporting the shooting clearly said over his intercom, before he got shot himself, that it was a man killing all those people. Never the less, most people still thought Violet had something to do with it. Why else wouldn't she have told the authorities more about the person who was actually guilty? And why wouldn't she have died with the rest of them?

"I know, I know." Ben said, trying to be comforting. Violet still didn't know if he actually meant that or not, but it shouldn't have mattered anymore. It definitely did, but it shouldn't have. It couldn't have made a difference. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. She didn't blame him for not volunteering for her. She'd be lying if she said she didn't think about it as a last hope while she was on the stage, but she didn't blame him. Signing up for death seemed kind of impossible, especially when you have a toddler to take care of. That was just how it was.

"It was Tate. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I'm gonna kill him. I swear to god I'm gonna kill him." That was the first time Violet had ever told anyone that. Her and Tate didn't even talk about it. After that day they didn't speak to each other again, the break up was just heavily implied. She made her voice muffled and low so the Peacekeepers wouldn't hear. She doubted they'd do anything about it, because he was already being sent to his probable death, but it seemed safer. Ben just stared at her. Violet couldn't read his face, it seemed almost incredulous. He never really liked Tate, but that was just being a protective father. They just stood there for a long moment before a Peacekeeper announced that his time was up. He nodded, stepped back, and cleared his throat.

"I love you, Violet." His voice was rough and gravely.

"I love you too." As far as last words went, those weren't bad ones to have with your father.

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**Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I kept forgetting to upload. Okay so 250 ish views so far but still no reviews, which means I'm gonna give you guys incentive (I know I sound thirsty but whatever the whole reason I'm publishing this is to be motivated). I have a planning page for this fic which has all of the tributes I'm using, their names, their appearances (which I'm just using FCs for because the person I'm writing this for likes that better), their personalities, and how they all die. It also has short versions of what happens on the first 2 days of the game. So if you review I'll PM you with it so you can get spoiled, if you're into that. **


	7. Chapter 7- Visiting Hours: Moira

Moira tapped her nails against her knee, waiting for Bise to come and say goodbye. It wouldn't be emotional or desperate, knowing him. He was efficient, he didn't like getting feelings tied up in hopeless cases. Moira suspected that was why he wanted a permanent servant rather than a string of prostitutes or girlfriends who would end up leaving him eventually. But she had been with him for almost seven years, and now she'd be gone. Well, probably be gone. Moira was a fighter. She hadn't been trained like the careers in districts one and two, but she knew lots of self-defense from when she was a prostitute and she had an iron will. She wouldn't let herself be trampled easily.

There wasn't a clock in the holding room, but it seemed to Moira that she was waiting longer than it would take for Bise to come. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but dismissed it as silly and useless. Bise wasn't her boyfriend, or even her lover. He was her employer. He let her sleep in his house, eat his food, and he sent some money to nine for her mother every month. She cooked, cleaned, and tended to him physically. It wasn't a relationship, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Still, she noticed the corners of her mouth give way to a tiny smile when the door swung open, and then a frown when she saw who it was. Phox, one of Bise's personal secretaries. Moira had spoken to him maybe three times in her entire employment, she wouldn't even know his name if Bise hadn't talked about him on a few occasions. He didn't even say anything, he just handed her a little paper slip that Moira recognized from Bise's desk. She knew he carried stationary on him most times he went out in case he needed to leave a note for someone, they'd know it was really from him. He was important, after all.

'I regret the loss of you. It is my hope that, should you succeed in the game, you will continue your employment. –B'

Moira looked up at Phox and thanked him blankly. He nodded and left. Moira clutched the paper in her hand, trying not to over think it. But how could she not? That was the only human connection she had left. She wrote to her mother, but she hadn't seen her in years and letters were impersonal. Bise was the only person who was constant to her, and he had given her a twenty two word note that read like memo between business colleges who didn't know each other's first names. Moira was alone. She knew, objectively, that was better. Not having anyone to miss or worry about would be an advantage in the arena, but she couldn't help the empty, gaping feeling she was pretending wasn't there.

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Sorry this is a little short. The chapters I'm writing now (I'm writing chapter 22 now) are about 2000 words each. After this chapter, they tend to get progressively longer.


	8. Chapter 8- Visiting Hours: David

David felt sick to his stomach. Every image of Paul that he'd tried his best to make peace with was flooding his head, yelling at him and trying to drown him. He remembered seeing Paul in person for the last time in the very room he sat in. They hugged and cried together, things that Paul usually weren't comfortable with for the sake of maintaining his masculinity. But Paul didn't think he'd be alive for very long, and he and David had always been much closer than most friends, so having those three short minutes to say goodbye were worth so much to David. He looked back on them and wished that it really was the last time he saw Paul. He didn't want to have taken witness to the games that year, they were brutal. Probably not any more so than the other games David watched, but he had never been as emotionally invested. Of course it was always terrible to watch people be forced to kill each other, but Paul wasn't just people. By the end of the games, he had become rabid. All that mattered to him was winning. David didn't recognize his friend anymore, he had become a monster. That was the main reason that David resolved not to kill anyone. He'd rather die as the person he knew he was than try to survive as a bacterized version of him, mutated into a behemoth.

A Peacekeeper opened to door for Maggie, then walked back behind her to push her wheelchair in the room. David stood out of habit. He wanted to hug her, but she was weak and physical contact was difficult sometimes. That was why she and David originally got close, he started looking after her after her daughter left. He started to notice her having difficulties doing simple things like getting groceries. He didn't know how she supported herself until they spoke more, but other than explaining that and speaking happily about letters that occasionally came, she didn't talk about her daughter very much. It made David curious. Not that he was thinking about that as she was being wheeled into his holding room, he was just thinking about who would take care of her after he was gone, and the fact that this would probably be the last time he saw the face of someone who genuinely cared about him.

"I am so sorry, David. You didn't have to do that, you know. You have so much potential…" She sounded more frail than normal, it broke David's heart. He didn't want to leave behind the people he loved in wrecks. And she was wrong. David liked himself, but he was realistic. He could have been the smartest, most charismatic, most talented person in the world but he'd never be more than the farmer that he was. That was just how the system worked, there was no class mobility. David had the potential to be a good man, a good husband and father, and a good provider. Those things mattered, but they weren't any more valuable than what Maggie had to offer the world. David shook his head and reached out his hands for her's.

"Hey, it was my choice. Okay?" He made his voice sound comforting, and even managed to smile at her sympathetically. "Just do me one favor; please don't watch the games. Avoid as much as you can." It was impossible to completely avoid the horror show, but Maggie stayed in most of the time and didn't pay much attention to media when she was out. Maybe she'd be able to spare herself from seeing his death. She nodded, and David really hoped she meant it. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead protectively, while putting on a brave face. "Try and see if your daughter will move back once I'm gone. If she can't talk to my friend Chris. He's great and he can totally help you out like I have." She just nodded again. David was pretty sure she was having a difficult time talking, she probably didn't want to get too emotional or make it about her. She was always a pretty selfless person.

When one of the Peacekeepers gave the signal, David stepped back so the Peacekeeper could wheel Maggie out. They didn't say goodbye, not out loud. They made meaningful eye contact, smiled bittersweet smiles, and that was good enough.

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**I'd love to get y'all's opinion of David. He's the OC I use in the rp I do with the friend I'm writing this for, I've been using him for about two years. But, because of his past, he's different here than he is in the rp-verse. The offer about spoiling you (if you want it) in exchange for reviews still stands :) **


	9. Chapter 9- The Train: Tate

Tate tried to zone out that bitch Pomeline rattling on about how expensive the train they were sitting in was and how the games were so fucking wonderful. Stupid whore. She looked like she fell in a tub of fucking food dye. He was focused on the back of Violet's head. She was trying not to look at him, he could tell. She was staring resolutely at the window with her hair coving the side of her face facing him. He wanted to comfort her, or hold her, or tell her his plan, or get her out of the whole damn situation. But all he could do was stare.

He didn't notice that someone entered their car until Violet's head turned suddenly. The new woman was tall, covered in scars, and smiling like she knew something no one else knew. Tate recognized her as a victor from their district from a few years back. He didn't know her name, nor did he care, but he guessed she was going to be their mentor. She sat down at the dining table and wordlessly motioned everyone over with her hand. Tate already thought she was acting like an entitled bitch. Begrudgingly, he stood up and sat at one of the velvet padded wooden chairs across from the mentor. Violet sat next to her, as far away to Tate as she could get. That stung, but Tate was expecting it, even though that chair was clearly made for Pomeline. The mentor made a sarcastic shivering gesture, then started talking.

"Someone's being a cold bitch." She laughed, trying to sound friendly. She was joking, but it made Tate's blood boil. If he didn't think getting violent would further alienate Violet, he would have done something about it. "I'm kidding, obviously. It's a good thing to keep an emotional distance from your competition, that was no one gets attached." Ha. Stupid bitch. "Anyway, I'm Charitina Lapworth. You probably remember me from seven years ago, or you at least remember the food you got. You're welcome. Tate and Violet, right?" She didn't pause for them to answer. So damn self-assured. "What are your questions? I've been looking forward to mentoring for forever. The old one just stepped down so now it's me. You're lucky, no one ever won with him." Violet spoke without looking up.

"What are good ways to kill people stronger than you? Someone who knows how to kill?" Violet looked up at Tate in the directly when she asked her second question. The meaning of that wasn't ambiguous, he knew that she planned to kill him. Tate was torn. It hurt like a bitch that she wanted him to die by her own hands. But that was what Tate had planned anyway. He would kill everyone else, then she could kill him, or if she preferred, he'd kill himself. It sucked that she was so willing, though. He didn't blame her, it just sucked. But he couldn't let her kill him too soon, then someone else might get to Violet after he was gone. He'd have to be the last death of the games. He didn't speak up yet, though. He didn't want to disagree with anything she said and he didn't want that bitch Charitina trying to talk him out of it. He'd tell her when they were alone, right before the games started. There was no way she could object. This way she'd be able I go home. She'd be able to stay alive.

"Oh, easy. You mean the careers, right? Over rated. They're incredibly cocky. Just take them by surprise. Stay close to them, but not close enough for them to see you. Then, wait for them to be vulnerable." She smiled at Violet, who was still glaring at Tate. Tate swallowed and looked down at the table, listening to them talk and fiddling with the ring on his left thumb.

"No. Not the careers. Never mind." Violet snapped, then stood up and walked to the far end of the train car. Tate wanted to follow her, or at least stare more, but he didn't want to feed her anger.

"Wow, she's really bitter about being here, isn't she? I get that. I didnt like the games either at first, but the rush is unparalleled. There's nothing like that on the outside. It's like a high. You guys are lucky." Charitina sounded genuine. Maybe they had more in common than being the victims of random selection. Would Violet developed a taste for blood after killing him? He hoped not, that wasn't Violet. She wasn't tainted like he was.


	10. Chapter 10-The Train: Violet

The train was way nicer than Violet had expected. Seven wasn't the most run down district, but it was still pretty damn shitty. No one had plumbing in their houses, so all bath houses were public. There were about fifty kids per classroom, and almost all of them taught the exact same thing, fucking lumber. Violet couldn't imagine a more boring job. Violet was lucky, thanks to her dad, she was in a program for management and leadership. So instead of making paper, she could supervise people making paper. Because that was just so much more exciting. It didn't matter anymore, though. She was going to die. She wished she could at least enjoy the luxury of the train car, but the fact that Tate was there made that impossible. She could feel his eyes on her, it made her squirm. She decided to sit as far away from him as possible, instead of listening to Pomeline explain something Violet cared more about than what she was looking at out the window. It was just seven, the place she'd been in her entire life. Maybe she should have felt sentimental about seeing it for the last time, but she wasn't leaving behind anything she cared about, besides her dad and brother. She felt sick that she'd never see them again, but looking at the worn down structures in her home district wouldn't help that.

She looked up when the door in front of her opened and Charitina Lapworth walked in. Well, strutted might have been a better word. She didn't look Capitol, but she definitely looked like she had more money than she knew what to do with. She was wearing this weird glitter dress that made her look completely shapeless. It was barely a dress, it was more like a shirt that she bought a few sizes too big. It was grey, which was weird for rich people. They usually looked like rainbows. Her shoes didn't match, another weird thing for rich people. They were these black, form fitting split sole shoes. Most girls in Capitol, and therefor most girls in the victor's village, wore these insane heels that were half the length of their calves. Maybe Charitina didn't like the idea of not being able to run away. By far the most out of place thing about Charitina was her face, it was covered in scars. She definitely could have fixed that if she wanted to, cosmetic surgery was totally the norm for anyone with money. It made Violet curious. Violet got up when Charitina nonchalantly waved her hand to make everyone gather around her, so Violet complied. Tate was taking Charitina's orders too, so Violet decided to take the chair next to Charitina, ignoring Pomeline's cold look as she sat next to Tate. Apparently Charitina noticed the weirdness, too.

"Someone's being a cold bitch." Her voice was lower than Violet expected. Violet was 11 when Charitina won, so she didn't remember the games very well. Charitina's voice sounded deep, but not aggressive. It didn't seem to match her demeanor. "I'm kidding, obviously. It's a good thing to keep an emotional distance from your competition, that was no one gets attached. Anyway, I'm Charitina Lapworth. You probably remember me from seven years ago, or you at least remember the food you got. You're welcome. Tate and Violet, right? What are your questions?" Violet opened her mouth to talk, but Charitina kept talking before Violet had the chance. "I've been looking forward to mentoring for forever. The old one just stepped down so now it's me. You're lucky, no one ever won with him." Violet spoke quickly once Charitina took a breath.

"What are good ways to kill people stronger than you?" Acting on instinct, she turned her head to Tate, but continued to speak to Charitina. "Someone who knows how to kill?" Maybe that was stupid. She had pretty much just told Tate that she wanted to kill him, which would mean he'd be on guard. But everyone in the arena was trying to kill him, which meant he'd always be on guard, so in the end it didn't really matter. Tate looked down. That was weird. He almost looked ashamed. Violet decided not to think about that.

"Oh, easy. You mean the careers, right? Over rated. They're incredibly cocky. Just take them by surprise. Stay close to them, but not close enough for them to see you. Then, wait for them to be vulnerable." Charitina seemed so damn excited. She was totally off base and a little hypocritical. She was being cocky herself, talking about how it was such a huge weakness. Violet didn't want to deal with it, and she could always just ask more questions later. Hopefully she'd get answers that actually helped.

"No. Not the careers. Never mind." She got up and sat back where she was before. All she thought about for the rest of the ride was different ways to kill Tate. Maybe if she visualized it enough, it'd be easy when it actually came to it. She felt too attached to him to turn him into jail, so murdering him might be a little complicated. But she could do it, she knew she could. It was her purpose now.

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**fun fact about the author: she really, really like reviews. **


	11. Chapter 11- The Train: Moira

Maybe it was because she was a cynic, but Moira was very unimpressed with the train. They were supposed to be lavish, maybe as some kind of apology to the tributes or maybe so they'd be spoiled and killed that much easier. But it wasn't much nicer than Bise's house, and the experience was definitely skewed by Lartius's crying. He was sobbing and clutching his own knees, it was heartbreaking. Moira wanted to hug him, to try and comfort him. He was so young. When Moira was thirteen, her life was still somewhat normal. She was hungry, but most people in her district were. Her mother could still walk, so they were still surviving. Hell, she was still a virgin at that age. Lartius was going to die before he had any substantial joy. Maybe it was cruel, but Moira knew she couldn't help him. She wasn't going to make any emotional attachments to any other competitor, that would be the stupidest thing she could think of. The Capital representative, Gliese Renfrewshire, was talking to him about how the games would be a good experience and how the winner would be set for life. Lartius was from three, he already was set for life. Moira tried not to listen, but it was difficult to completely tune it out. Phrases like, 'I'll never see my sister again,' 'You should feel lucky,' and 'I'm gonna die on the first day' were difficult to ignore.

Moira started into space until she noticed a man in the train car. She didn't know how long he had been there, but he definitely wasn't there when she got there. He was handsome. Dark skin, toned enough that she could tell he had an impressive body with all his clothes on, and he looked like the kind of guy who knew how to handle himself. Moira remembered him from four years ago when he won the games. His name was Nino, and he was fucking intense. It was kind of a turn on to meet someone who looked like they could tie you up and tear you apart. Moira got up and walked towards him, smiling just slightly sultrily.

"I didn't know you'd be our mentor. Your games were thrilling." If Moira was going to be spending the next few days with this guy, she might as well have some fun with him. Nino didn't seem to care much, he brushed passed her and said in a flat tone,

"Stop flirting. My boyfriend's killed people too." Moira was disappointed, but maybe not having that distraction would be a good thing. She could surely find someone else to relive her tension, and if not, she knew how to do it herself. Her eyes followed him as he confidently walked over to Gliese and Lartius. "You look defeated already. That's fine, 23 people die. You won't be alone." Damn. He really was intense. Wasn't his job to get herself or Lartius to win? Although, if he'd already given up on Lartius, that meant he would be focusing all of his attention on Moira. That would be good for her, no matter how demonic she felt for thinking that. Lartius cried harder, so Nino rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the couch chairs. Moira expected him to say something else, or to at least pay attention to the people around him, but he didn't. Moira, wanting to stay on what she thought was his good side, decided to leave him alone. She made herself busy with a glass of scotch and the image of three out her window zooming away.

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**I had an idea of who I want to win, but now I'm not really sure, so if you guys have opinions about that feel free to PM me. **


	12. Chapter 12- The Train: David

David and Raff sat next to each other on the train, silent until David decided to break it. He knew talking casually with someone who might try to kill him was a little weird, but David loved human connections. He was freaked out, and taking part in normal activities, like talking to strangers and being friendly, would help him.

"So, Raff, right? I'm David. I don't think I've really seen you around before." Raff looked at David questioningly, then turned back to the window. David thought it might be comforting for Raff to talk to someone friendly, like himself, but apparently not. "Sorry. You don't want to talk, I get that." He didn't want to impose, so David got up and sat alone on a couch on the other side of the train car. He quietly thought about his friends and how they'd have to watch him die. None of them were as close to him as he was to Paul, but still, the emotional toll that can take on a person can't be overestimated. For David, it was traumatic. It's one thing to lose a friend, it's an entirely different thing to see your friend transform into a bloodthirsty murderer, and then see their throat slit. Taking witness to your friend bleeding out was something that stayed with you. _Not for much longer_, David thought with a hint of bitterness. His thoughts were interpreted when he felt the cushions move slightly beneath him and he looked up to find a young teenage girl sitting next to him and smiling. David stared at her, confused. She didn't look older than 16. Raff was the other tribute, and the Capitol representative was in the front of the car eating cheese squares, so who was she? He knew that his mentor would be coming soon, but this kid had to be nearly ten years younger than him. He must have been staring for thirty seconds. She didn't say anything, just looking at him with a bubbly smile. Finally, David leaned in and spoke quietly, trying not to draw attention to her.

"Did you sneak in? They're gonna cut your tongue off, kid." David looked around quickly, trying to find some hiding place for the girl. The girl laughed and pushed her hair back flirtatiously.

"Well now I'm just insulted. I'm Althea Jardine. I won the games three years ago, remember? I'm your mentor." She stuck her hand out to shake his, and after a moment of confused hesitation, he complied. Come to think of it, he did remember her. She looked so different, though. She was 12 when she won, she looked so much younger. David remembered watching in horror as she beat out the last career and claimed victory. It was good for the district, of course. Everyone got enough food to last the year comfortably. But there was almost nothing more gruesome than seeing a 12 year old kid resort to cannibalism.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I totally remember you. You look…different. Good different. I'm David." He smiled out of instinct and friendliness as he shook her hand. She looked proud to be their mentor. That was so off putting to David. First of all, he hated the idea of a kid who was most likely still recovering from serious trauma to be constantly around and involved in the system that was responsible for the trauma in the first place. Plus, even though David didn't have any intention of winning, Raff might. As open minded as he tried to be, David doubted the competence of a fifteen year old to get someone ready to fight to the death with 22 people who wanted to kill him.

"Well thank god for that. I was 12 and scrappy then. Not to mention covered with dirt and blood most of the time." She laughed, then placed her hands on her lap. It seemed like she was flirting. David thought it was kind of cute. She was a kid, and David was about to die, so obviously nothing would come of it, but self-esteem boosts were always nice and kids trying to put the moves on was endearing, like when older women dance with little boys at weddings.

"Yeah, well, I guess Capitol takes care of their victors." David didn't feel great about saying that, because it didn't feel completely true to him. Althea was dressed in expensive clothes and she definitely lived in one of those huge houses in the victor's village, but she wasn't taken care of. Taking care of people would mean never getting them into anything like the games in the first place. Althea laughed more, then stood up. She stood confidently with her hand on her left hip, leaning a little to that side.

"Totally. I guess that's something you'll be able to take advantage of once you win." She looked over her shoulder to Raff. "I'm gonna go snap him out of whatever rut he's in. Talk to you later." She turned around and sat next to Raff, where David was earlier. David didn't bother telling her that he had no intention of winning, that would come out later. For now he'd just focus on the present.


	13. Chapter 13- The Interview: Moira

Given the circumstances, Moira wasn't having a terrible day. All of the women who did her hair and makeup were all over her, they thought she had a really unique beauty and they were excited by the possibilities she presented. She got compliments about her appearance a lot, but it was usually in a predatory way. They ended up going with a dark lacey floral pattern around her eyes, taking up most of her upper face. They didn't want to take any attention away from that, so they put her in lipstick the exact color of her skin. Moira argued with them about that choice, her lips had always been a big selling point. But they said that big, colorful lips would be cliché and boring, they wanted her to be unexpected. They cut and straightened her hair until it was just above shoulder length, put black streaks in it that glowed like neon, and gelled it up so that it stood straight up with a tiny lean toward. Moira had no clue how they made hair dye that was also a blacklight, but she didn't think it would ever matter to her and she had enough to worry about.

Bise had always bought her nice clothes, but those were nothing like the dress that her designer had picked out for her. It was a sleeveless black leotard with a deep v neck, under a black layer of tull. The only part of it that felt familiar were the garters, although the ones she had at home weren't as smooth or well fitting.

Moira could see some of the male tributes, and one of the girls, checking her out while they were all waiting for their interviews. Moira was one of the first, which she resented. Being last would have been so much better, she would have been the one that people were talking about as they left the stadium. Nino had told her to act cold, confident, sexy, and biting. She had been acting like that since she was fifteen, the interview would be easy. Sponsorships were key once in the arena. She was pretty sure Bise would sponsor her, even if he was being withholding. But the more the better, so she wanted people to be attracted to her, afraid of her, and drawn to her. Just like when she was still living in Nine.

She heard her name being called by Caesar and she strutted out confidently, giving the audience a sexy smile. The clacking noise of her bright red heels, the only part of her outfit with any color, could have been heard by the people in the back of the stadium. She sat down at the edge of the empty chair, crosses her legs purposefully, and held out her arm for Caesar to kiss. It was a bit much, but Moira had learned that rich people were addicted to the dramatic. Caesar pecked her hand then sat down himself.

"Moira O'Hara, welcome to Capitol. I understand this isn't the first time you've been here." That question was a little dry, but Moira had a gift of making any conversation sexy quickly.

"Mm, twice. I love the Capitol. People here aren't so preoccupied with work. They have more time for pleasure." That was just subtle enough for people not to write her off as disgustingly vulgar. Caesar was a pro, and possibly gay, so he didn't let any attraction show, but he wasn't important. All she needed to do was peak the interest of the audience.

"Now, tell me. How does someone born in District Nine end up living in District Three, with enough success to take trips to the Capitol?" Moira was told not to say she was a prostitute. People should think that, given the opportunity, she would want to have sex with them. Not that she would benefit from it in any way besides orgasm.

"I have connections. I don't think it matters, though. I'll be living in the Victor's village soon enough." She was trying, and as far as she could tell succeeding, to be mysterious. She wanted people to question her history, that way they were thinking about her. Caesar smiled, either acting or genuinely being charmed by her confidence.

"That's the spirit. Are you scared at all? You seem to be very sure of yourself."  
"I am sure of myself. You don't have to be a career to know that you're talented." She drew out the world talented and looked at the audience provocatively. There was no way they wouldn't understand the double meaning of that.

"You look ready to give them hell. Good luck, Moira." He stood up and held his hand out for her to shake. He did so while looking at the audience, giving them the look she used to give to potential customers in Nine. Then, she walked off stage, making sure to go slowly and give everyone a chance to get a good long look at the way her outfit hugged all the right places of her body.

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**I know this is out of order, bur Moira's from 3 so her interview would be first. **


	14. Chapter 14- The Interview: Tate

Tate was pretty sure he had never felt more uncomfortable in anything he had ever wore. He was in tight leather pants that made him look like a flaming faggot, there were layers of heavy chain necklaces around his neck, hanging as low and his abdomen, and the amount of hair product and make up it took to make him look like he hadn't slept in a week was astounding. While getting made over, he found himself again and again looking forward to being in the arena so he could let off some steam. He couldn't remember what the hell his trainer's name was, but she kept telling him to look at everyone like he wanted to know what their blood tasted like. That wouldn't have been hard, but Tate didn't really give a flying fuck about his persona, so he didn't bother. That's why, while he was waiting for his interview to start, instead of brooding and spitting on things like he was supposed to, he was staring at Violet. She looked like a fucking angel. She always looked like an angel, but now it was literal. He didn't know if he thought it was funny or a blessing. They were trying to make her look the exact opposite of Tate; innocent, childlike, someone you wanted to protect. So they put her in this long, flowing, purple dress that Tate couldn't quite figure out the architecture of. The flowers in her hair kept changing colors, it was kind of hypnotizing. The whole thing didn't look anything like the person he knew her to be, but it was still beautiful. She wouldn't so much as look at him, which he predicted. He thought he might have saw her checking him out from the corner of her eye once, but that was definitely just wishful thinking. He was so memorized that he missed the first time Caesar called his name. He didn't realize it until his mentor literally pushed him over, making him stumble on stage. He flipped her off and then walked to center stage, ignoring both the audience and Caesar and sat down.

After being coached all day, Tate was feeling indignant He wanted to show his bitch mentor and the whole damn world that he didn't give a shit about them or what they thought. So, first thing after sitting down, he took all of his chain necklaces off and tossed them on Caesar's lap. "Hold those. They're faggy and anyone who thinks killing a man who wears jewelry is harder than killing a man who isn't a fucking pussy has another thing coming." Caesar didn't seem fazed, much to Tate's chagrin.

"You seem confident. That's always a strength. I saw that in you in the reaping. Hard to believe you're only eighteen." Tate hated the phrasing of that. Bullshit 'only.' He was a father of two and a killer of 26. There was nothing only about Tate, so he just scoffed. Caesar clearly didn't know how to respond to that, so changed topics. "A little bird told me that you and the other tribute from your district, Violet, have somewhat of a history. What is it like knowing she'll be one of your competition?" What? How the fuck would he know that? Fucking Peacekeepers tell their Capitol bosses everything. It was no one's damn business. Tate's first instinct was to just fucking leave the stage. What were they gonna do? It's not like they could punish him. He leaned to his left side to get up and leave that way, but then he saw Violet standing there, waiting for her turn, and he got an idea.

"It's definitely weird. But Violet's great, I think she'll do pretty well. We haven't talked in a while, but back when we were together, she always figured something out. We broke up about a year ago."

"How about you tell us why that happened?" Perfect. That was just what Tate was hoping he'd ask.

Tate was bullshitting for two reasons. The first was that it was fucking hilarious. Violet was anything but a prude. They never actually went all the way, but that had nothing to do with personal limitations or wanting to be pure or whatever bullshit reason people would assume. They just didn't want to get pregnant. Birth control was all but nonexistent in Seven, and there was no way in hell they'd be able to afford having a kid. The three of them would starve to death just trying. Plus, death by child birth rates were huge. Violet had been open to the idea of having sex if Tate pulled out, but he never felt right risking it. They did everything else, just not sealing the deal. The other reason why he was talking out of his ass was that, on the off chance their mentor actually knew what she was doing, he wanted to help the image Violet was supposed to have. Giving her sponsors could only be a good thing. Tate looked back to where Violet was standing. She looked thoroughly confused. Tate smiled at her, trying to convey that he was trying to help and not just being a dick, but also that it was fucking gold how these Capitol idiots ate that shit up. Caesar nodded, looking like he was trying too hard to come off as someone who understood the situation perfectly.

"Well it certainly will be interesting to see how those dynamics work themselves out." He stood up, and Tate did the same, taking his cue. They shook hands, a gesture Tate felt deserved an eye roll, and Tate left the stage. He sat on the floor, just behind the set. He wanted to hear everything Violet had to say. He couldn't see her, but he loved her voice. He had barely heard it since they broke up, this would be the most she spoke when he was within earshot in what felt like an eternity. He heard the clanking of his chains and only just ten remembered that he had left them up there.

"I'll get these back to him. Sorry, he's…kind of complicated." She said, laughing. She sounded so fake to Tate. He hated that she thought she had to try so hard for a chance at survival.

"I have to tell you, I don't see how the two of you could have been together. Is there a story behind that?" Tate perked up and headed closer against the wall. Violet was a good liar, but usually not when she tried to make things up on the spot. Maybe she'd tell real stories about when they were together, he was sure at least one or two didn't contradict the image she was going for.

"If I'm being totally honest, I don't really want to talk about Tate. It's still a little raw." Goddamnit.

"No problem, sweetheart." Tate was sure Violet would have cringed at that nickname if she wasn't on live tv. "You're one of the youngest competitors this year, there's only one person under you. How do you think that'll effect you in the arena?"

"I hope it'll help. But we'll see, right?" She wasn't saying anything. She was just talking, there was literally no information in that sentence. She was definitely dumbing herself down and Tate despised it.

"We certainly will. Do you have anything you want to say to the world before the games begin?" Tate wished he would have gotten that question. 'Fuck you guys' would have been better than whatever vapid bullshit Chara-whatever coached Violet to say.

"I just really want to see my brother grow up. He's a toddler, and my mom died just after he was born. My dad is great, but Jeff needs a woman to help bring him up." That didn't sound genuine to Tate, but it was still sad. Violet was good with Jeff. She was good with Beau and Addie too. Maybe he could ask her to help look after them once the games were over. She hated him, but she could never hate those two. Maybe she would.  
"Well, best of luck to you. Your dad just might not have to raise him alone." Then, Tate heard footsteps and saw Violet walk offstage. Either she didn't notice him or she was intentionally ignoring him, because she didn't even glance his way.


	15. Chapter 15- The Interview: Violet

Violet was trying her best to shut up and smile throughout her first day at capitol. Charitina had told her that that was her best chance at sponsorships, to act like, as she put it, 'Seven's sweetheart.' Violet thought it was complete bullshit, but she was willing to do almost anything not to die. The more she thought about it, the more it scared the shit out of her. Did that make her a hypocrite? She'd been thinking about killing herself for months, she even tried once. But now that it was an actuality, she wanted to run. She knew that there was almost no way she could win, but she had to try. She knew that she was smart, she'd probably be good at sneaking around and stealing, and if she came off as nonthreatening people would underestimate her, plus she might get help from rich Capitol people. And even if she didn't win, her original goal still stood- she wanted to kill Tate.

Violet didn't see him until they were waiting backstage for their interviews. He was staring, it was extremely off putting, especially given how he was presented. He looked like he could kill without blinking an eye, the exact opposite of how Violet was dressed. Violet thought she looked like a fairy from a children's book. She hate it. Her dress was really light purple, which she hoped wasn't a bad pun on her name. Her dress was much lower cut than almost everything she wore at home, which she didn't get for her whole virginal image, but she was warned against making a fuss. It was mermaid cut, and the skirt had layers of lace all the way down to the only simple part of her outfit, white ballet flats. They thought that heels would be too adult. Her hair took about three hours to do that morning. It literally looked like a rose in the back of her head, which faded into a braid that she was supposed to keep on her shoulder. She was pretty sure that there was more wire and spray on her head than actual hair at that point. To top it off, they put a small flower crown on her head that changed colors, all similar hues to her dress. Violet thought it was overkill, but looking at the average Capitol citizen, that was exactly what they wanted. Still, she thought Tate's look was much more fight-ready. He could always look scary when he tried, but shit. He wasn't even wearing a shirt, and Violet was pretty damn sure someone oiled up his abs. Violet told herself she was only paying attention because that's what she was supposed to do with her competition, but she wasn't looking nearly as much at the other tributes as she was at him, and she found herself listening much closer to his interviews than those that came before him.

"Hold those. They're faggy and anyone who thinks killing a man who wears jewelry is harder than killing a man who isn't a fucking pussy has another thing coming." Was he supposed to be acting like an asshole? Maybe he was cocky enough to think he didn't need sponsorships, but Violet saw some of the careers. They were just as big as Tate, some bigger, and much more trained. An image of one of them gutting Tate flashed in her head and it made her feel sick. She knew she had to get used to it, because she'd be the one killing him, but she still rushed the picture out of her mind quickly.

"You seem confident. That's always a strength. I saw that in you in the reaping. Hard to believe you're only eighteen." Violet couldn't help but smile at that. When she first met Tate, she thought he was somewhere in his mid-twenties and that it was weird, but flattering and definitely not unwelcome, that he was flirting with her. Everything seemed so innocent back then. They were both kind of disturbed, but Violet had always expected any boyfriend she ever got to be a little on the weird side. She tried her best not to think about the year they were together, it never lead to good thing.

"A little bird told me that you and the other tribute from your district, Violet, have somewhat of a history. What is it like knowing she'll be one of your competition?" Holy shit, how did they know that? Tate talking about her was the last thing she wanted. Whenever he had talked about her before, when they were together, it had…reverence. Like her name was something special. Violet didn't know how to describe it exactly, but it always made her feel for him. There was no good way for this to go. Either he'd still sound like he used to, full of love, or he'd sound careless. So, either she'd get distracted or get hurt. Fuck.

"It's definitely weird. But Violet's great, I think she'll do pretty well. We haven't talked in a while, but back when we were together, she always figured something out. We broke up about a year ago." …Okay, that was weird. That didn't sound like Tate at all. Violet was pretty sure Tate wasn't trying to play along with his 'image,' and even if he was, sounding like a respectful ex boyfriend wouldn't help him. What was his game?

"How about you tell us why that happened?"  
"I wanted to go faster than she did. Sexually. So I broke it off to get my rocks off." What the fuck? That wasn't anywhere near what happened, and it would make Tate seem like a total asshole. And not a likable, scary asshole either. Just scummy and someone people would want to die.  
"Well it certainly will be interesting to see how those dynamics work themselves out." They'll work themselves out by Violet killing him, it was pretty simple. She wasn't planning on having any kind of conversation or tension with him, so there would be no 'dynamic.' Violet was relieved to hear footsteps going off the stage, which meant Tate was done talking. Violet knew that it wasn't his intention, but the stuff he said was probably good for the innocent thing she was trying to present. Tate could be pretty manipulative when he tried, so Violet was almost sure that he had something up his sleeve, but for the time being, he wasn't completely fucking everything up.

Violet's nerves tripled when she heard Caesar call her name, even though she'd been mentally prepping herself for hours. She took a deep breath and walked on stage the way Charitina had told her too; a little quicker than normal and looking between Caesar and the audience. She was supposed to look young, and apparently some nervousness was a part of that. But it was important that she didn't look weak, just innocent. Violet really hoped she was walking on that thin line properly. She smiled at Caesar, who was still holding the chains Tate probably threw at him. Violet made her smile turn repentant as she gathered them up from him.

"I'll get these back to him. Sorry, he's…kind of complicated." Complicated didn't even begin to cover Tate, but it would have to do. She couldn't exactly go on tv and tell people who he really was, then she'd have to explain why she had been covering it up for so long.

"I have to tell you, I don't see how the two of you could have been together. Is there a story behind that?" Violet tensed up. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that. She couldn't be honest, but any story she could think of off the top of her head would seem fake and forced. She paused for a second, then decided that she didn't have to say anything. If she made herself seem like she was still hurt by Tate, maybe Caesar wouldn't pry. Plus it would be good for her persona. Truthfully, she was still hurt by Tate, and not just in the obvious sense that she was half-orphaned by him. That was the predominant source of hurt, but there was lots of lingering shitty feelings that made themselves known all too often.

"If I'm being totally honest, I don't really want to talk about Tate. It's still a little raw." She forced a shy, apologetic smile, and was relieved when he returned it with an accepting nod.

"No problem, sweetheart. You're one of the youngest competitors this year, there's only one person under you. How do you think that'll effect you in the arena?" Urg, sweetheart. Tate called her that twice as a joke, just to see her reaction. Both times he got slapped in the back of the head. Stupid nickname followed with a stupid question. She knew how it would affect her, she'd get killed much easier. She was small and weak. She was relatively fast and she thought she could probably hide or trick people, but that wouldn't make her a victor. It was fucking terrified to think about, but she just tried to focus on her in game goal.

"I hope it'll help. But we'll see, right?" Violet hated that she had to act so dumb, but if it would help than she'd give as many bullshit, meaningless answers as she had to.

"We certainly will. Do you have anything you want to say to the world before the games begin?" Oh, good. Charitina had told her to milk her family situation and make people root for her, this was her chance.

"I just really want to see my brother grow up. He's a toddler, and my mom died just after he was born. My dad is great, but Jeff needs a woman to help bring him up." Violet tried her best to look genuinely worried about her family. Maybe it was selfish, but at that point, it was bullshit. She was much more worried about saving her own ass than about if her dad would be able to figure out reusable diapers or not.

"Well, best of luck to you. Your dad just might not have to raise him alone." Caeser got up to shake her hand, so Violet got up after him. Even though she thought it was completely overdoing it, Violet did what Charitina told her to do at that point and hugged Caeser lightly for a second instead of shaking his hand, then walked off stage. The second her back was turned, she rolled her eyes, thinking about what Tate would have said about any of that when they were on speaking terms. He'd probably never let her hear the end of it. She forced herself not to smile at the memory of his endearing snark and walked straight to the crazy hotel they put her and Tate up in so she could wash the gunk off of her face and then get really, really drunk.


	16. Chapter 16- The Interview: David

**Ah fuck I totally forgot that I was uploading this story here. My bad. Hopefully people will still read it. **

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_Gay rock star, gay rock star, gay rock star_. Althea had told him that he was going to be a gay rock star, so David kept repeating it to himself. He thought it was kind of ridiculous, but he didn't want to cause problems and he wanted people to like him. He wasn't planning on surviving, but he'd rather die with food, water, and a nice blanket from a sponsor than alone, starving, and being brutally stabbed to death while throwing up blood. He had been considering suicide during the games instead of waiting for someone to kill him. In that way, he would be in control of when and how he died, and he wouldn't have to subject someone to murdering one more person. He didn't want to mentally scar anyone any more than they already would be. It came down to deciding what would be easier for his friends and family to watch, him being killed or him killing himself. He was still very undecided.

Being a gay rock star ended up being easier than David had thought. His outfit was sparkly and he felt like a child for enjoying throwing his arms around to watch his sleeves fly. His shirt was a blue to white to black gradient, with long, flaring sleeves, and a scoop neck. His pants were just tight and black that revealed almost everything, which prompted David's stylist to put him in a padded cup. He wore heavy, knee high boots with bright blue laces that matched his shirt. David had never worn anything anywhere near as fun. It was a little strange how important image and outfits seemed to be to everyone around him. He didn't even notice those things in the competitors when he was at home watching. Maybe that was the point, it wasn't supposed to look like an elaborate fabrication. What was Paul's image supposed to be? He came off in the interviews as friendly and down to earth, but that was how he was in real life. Maybe David was too caught up in fear and horror to notice differences.

David had 16 people go before him, and he listened to each and every one of their interviews closely. He knew that these presentations weren't the real them, but maybe he'd get hints or tiny insights. He liked knowing people, and he wanted to see glimpses of these damned souls before they were corrupted. The first boy, Horne Baxwoll, was tall, thin, and looked like he needed a haircut. David had expected a career to look more buff, but he just assumed that Horne had a different skillset. Horne acted polite and calm, but there was something about the way he spoke that made him seem demented. It was probably intentional. David hoped so, anyway. That would be less disconcerting. The girl from One, Tressa Ballantynn, was maybe a one or two years younger than David. She was really short, even with the heels they had her in. She acted snarky and rude, but not going too far with it. David thought that was a pretty smart strategy, to get people to love her while being entertained by a certain level of bitingness. Eero Arausio, the boy from Two, looked confident and handsome. He flirted with Ceaser quite a lot. David was pretty sure he'd be doing that too, but Eero was more obvious about it than David planned to be. The girl, Fannia Rollo, was completely unpleasant. It seemed like she was trying too hard to be the 'fun' kind of mean, but she just came off as horrible. The boy from Three broke David's heart before he even started talking. He was just a kid, couldn't have been older than 14 or 15. And it only got worse as the interview went. He started out trying to be spunky, but he had a breakdown halfway through and started crying. He ran off stage. The girl from Three, Moira, was definitely the prettiest of all the tributes. She acted sexy and confident, an angle that seemed to be repeated a few times, but David didn't pay very close attention until Ceaser mentioned her last name; O'Hara. That was Maggie's last name, and she did say her daughter lived in Three. She even kind of looked like Maggie, if Maggie was a lot younger and could walk. David really hoped his assumption was wrong, he couldn't imagine seeing two people you cared about die or kill. He decided to track down Moira later that night and ask about her family.

David wasn't happy with himself for zoning out the rest of the tributes, but he was distracted. What if Moira really was Maggie's estranged daughter? David would have to try and avoid her in the game, because he was pretty sure the worst possible thing would be to see your daughter kill your surrogate son. Well, surrogate son/caretaker/close friend. He would definitely try his best to spare Maggie from that experience.

He only snapped out of it when he heard Caeser call his name. He swaggered out, smiling to the audience charismatically. Gay rock star. To greet Caesar, he held out his arms and exclaimed,

"Aaaay!" He flung himself down on the chair and let his long sleeves practically dance down to meet him. David definitely thought that he had the best costume out of anyone.

"Big personality for a farm boy." Caesar said with a joking tone. "Do you think you've picked anything up there that could help? I know I've seen some art done with a scythe. Nine should never be underestimated." Art? He called it art? David tried not to judge all Capitol citizens for what the government did, but how could anyone call forced killing art?

"…Yeah, never mind. I'm dying anyway. I don't feel like playing along." David stood up and walked off stage quickly. It was surprising how easy of a choice that was. He knew he wasn't winning anyway, so what did a few comforts mean? It wasn't like he'd be able to enjoy himself or relax in the arena. He would have to apologize to Althea, though. He'd do that quickly, then try and find Moira to set that straight.


End file.
